


A Little More and Other Oxymorons

by BasicButler



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Family, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Slow Burn, Teacher-Student Relationship, nothing while Underage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-21
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-08-16 12:01:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8101663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BasicButler/pseuds/BasicButler
Summary: Emily Ardent, a Gryffindor whose main goal is to be a thorn in a certain young Potion Master's life, receives the greatest gift in her life because of one of her greatest hurts.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first fan fiction and I am unsure where I'm going exactly, or if I'll continue to go at all, so I'd appreciate the advice and encouragement. Also, I'm sure there will be more of our favorite characters in here somewhere but I haven't decided upon them yet.

“He can’t say that!” The eleven-year-old Gryffindor practically growled, her brown eyes anything but kind as she smashed an unfortunate roasted potato with the end of her spoon. Next to her, an older boy sighed sagely and wrapped an arm around the shoulders of his younger sister, clearly about to impart the knowledge of the world as he stretched his free hand into the open air.

                “Look, Em,” The girl paused her brutalization of the potato to look at her brother’s hand.

                “At what?” Her curiosity beating away her anger rather easily.

                “The wonders of the world are all here at Hogwarts,” The sister raised an eyebrow, “One of those wonders is Professor Snape,” A set of brown eyes rolled obnoxiously but the teenager remained undaunted, “No one knows why exactly, but the fact of the matter is, the universe granted the Professor the ability to belittle anyone who crosses his path without even a thought.” The boy waved his hand along the length of the Great Hall until he reached the head table where the legendary Severus Snape himself sat scowling at, no doubt, the abundance of joy in the dining hall. “So,” He continued, “Snape has no choice but to be a bloody git and you shouldn’t pay any heed to what he says because he can’t deny the power the universe gave him – that’d be like you or me deciding to never use magic again.” The eleven-year-old squinted in an obviously unamused expression and shifted in her seat.

                “But he called me an “all-knowing chit filled with regurgitated drivel,” The disgruntled first year muttered, going back to mashing her potatoes.

                “Oh, that’s it? That’s practically a compliment in Snape’s book,” Hugh Oliver Ardent grinned crookedly and let out a small laugh, ruffling his sister’s hair, unaffected by the glare the girl sent his way.

                “I just don’t get it,” The girl muttered, light brown, nearly blonde hair shadowed the girls face as she started to think a hole through the table. “You’re supposed to do your best at school and all I did was answer a question – that HE asked!” Her voice raised slightly along with an indignant finger, “And then he insulted me – what was I supposed to do, not answer the question?” The younger Ardent looked at her brother with pleading eyes, clearly torn over the age old dilemma of what she understood about the world vs. Snape doesn’t play by the same rules.

                “There’s no right answer with Snape,” The older Ardent said with a sigh, “I just keep my head down and do the work but sometimes he still explodes at me,” The boy admitted with a forced grin on his face, “So, just don’t worry about it, okay? Snape’s a git, and that’s all there is to it.”  The teenager paused and then smirked at something before settling back into his own plate.

                The girl next to him groused throughout the meal and barely ate a thing, making her plate look like a battlefield sluiced with the blood of the medium rare steak on her plate which was chopped into very tiny, spite-filled pieces. The mood persisted even as she climbed into her bed in the dorm and closed the curtains around her.

                When she woke, however, Emily Giselle Ardent found a solution and it involved a lot of studying and not answering a single potions question correctly. 

***

                “I don’t know,” The practiced lie came out easily for the third year Gryffindor. One Severus Snape glared down at her, knowing full well that she knew the answer but was simply choosing to play games – she made perfect potions nearly every class and she had the gall to say she didn’t know what the purpose of a Calming Draught was. It was in the name!

                “See me after class, Miss Ardent,” Snape snapped at the teenager, a nerve in his forehead twinging -  a nerve that only one Emily Ardent could send into spasms with her stubbornness. \

                “Yes Professor,” She replied in a sickly sweet sort of polite that made Severus’s stomach turn and tongue want to lash out. But no, he wasn’t going to play into her little games as he had when she first started “playing dumb” in her first year. He was going to be in control. He was the adult, after all, all though sometimes he didn’t feel it – still only twenty-three himself, ‘almost twenty-four!’ a juvenile portion of his brain reminded him.

                Emily rolled her eyes as the Professor turned his back, relaxing into her seat, content at being the thorn in his side – if he was going to be a prat to everyone then she was at least going to earn it. At least, that’s the decision she made back in first year and she certainly wasn’t going to give up now. Boredly cycling through the steps for a Calming Draught, adding this and that till it was completed thirty minutes before class was supposed to end, Emily bottled up the well-made concoction and dropped it up at the front, smirking at the snarl Snape was barely able to keep off his face – it must frustrate him that his best student was determined to act as stupid as possible. Most people in the class assumed she just made whatever sludge and accepted the T for a grade when in reality she hadn’t gotten anything below an O in a year. It was a shame she had no one to share this triumph with but her brother. The Ardent’s were known to keep to themselves for the most part – family being the highest priority in their lives, schooling several miles below that in the grand scheme of things. Thus, Emily had very few people she’d consider friends, let alone acquaintances, at Hogwarts. Her fellow Gryffindors treated her as an outcast, all though she had their grudging respect at how she managed to peeve off Snape so often seemingly without doing a thing and also, usually, without a loss of points.

                Laying her head down, Emily tried to catch a quick nap before her meeting with Snape. Her thick head of barely brown hair a good barrier between her and her classmates. Unfortunately, it left her rather vulnerable, especially due to having the worst brewer in perhaps Hogwarts history, a Slytherin with the last name Avery in her class exactly one row behind her.

Severus watched, in slow motion, as Avery ducked behind his desk, his Cauldron keeling over in the opposite direction and giving a mighty burp, blasting its contents into the back of the unsuspecting Miss Ardent. It would have been comical had Severus not known just how hot this particular brew had to be in order to work perfectly, and he prayed to whatever God that Avery proved to be as untalented in potions as ever and hadn’t reached that temperature. Rushing forward to assess the situation he barely managed a “Miss Ardent!” before she was trying to scrape the goo off her and then screaming the most terrible scream Severus had heard in a while. The teenage girl was frantic now, trying to get the liquid off of her and Severus physically fought to keep her arms still, only then remembering the other students were gawking at the situation, some on the verge of throwing up as they watched their classmate practically shed her skin.

“Class dismissed,” Snape said smoothly, his voice showing no trace of the heart that was pounding in his chest in panic. Severus had never had an accident like this occur in his classroom and he was, quite frankly, at a loss. The other students scattered with barely a glance backwards at their classmate. Miss Ardent seemed to be in shock now, no longer putting up a fight.

“Miss Ardent,” He said pronounced slowly, brown eyes flicked up to meet black, “I’m going to levitate you to the Hospital Wing, now, please do not try to struggle.” Severus cast a Levicorpus wordlessly and then a Disillusionment charm, not wanting her appearance to startle any of the other students before walking at a pace only Severus Snape could achieve without looking like they were shitting themselves to get somewhere.

Snape was, in reality, shitting himself to get to Pomphrey, knowing she would know what to do to help his student. The professor kept replaying the scene in his mind as he made his way to the Hospital Wing, angry at how far away the dungeons were from the rest of the castle for, perhaps, the first time in his life. Usually the privacy was perfectly suited for Snape’s needs. He kept seeing the cauldron spewing its fiery liquid and wondering if there was some spell he could have cast in the moment, wishing he’d had been able to react in time with a shield of some sort.

“Poppy!” The young professor called, using the first name of the mediwitch which was rather out of character. Poppy poked her head out from behind a curtain and blinked in confusion until Severus dropped the disillusionment charm to reveal her newest patient. The mediwitch let out a gasp and hurried to his side, resting Miss Ardent into an open bed.

“What happened?” The mediwitch asked as she scanned the young witches body, noting the third degree burns with a sad heart - they would be hard to erase - whilst spelling potions that would help heal Miss Ardent into her body.

“Avery,” Was all Snape could manage to snarl before a fifth year Gryffindor rushed into the Hospital Wing demanding answers. However, it was really all the answer the mediwitch needed having treated the boy for various potions accidents over the years, admittedly they were not nearly as severe as the ones suffered by Miss Ardent.

“Will she be okay?” The boy who was quickly becoming a man, asked, a hard glint to his usually mischievous honey-colored eyes.

“She should be fine, Mr. Ardent, though there will most likely be scarring.” Hugh sighed and looked down at his sister who was staring unseeingly at the ceiling. Anger stewed in his young mind, and, with no one to place the blame for the incident, rounded on his Professor. Later reflection would have the young man recognize the unfairness of his words.

“And where were you?” Mr. Ardent accused in a hushed growl, eyes blazing with a barely suppressed rage.

“Excuse me?” Severus Snape responded with a growl of his own, disbelief clear on his face at the accusation in his student’s tone. Secretly Snape felt the blame was not misdirected at all, it was his classroom, after all.

“Where were you while my sister was sustaining third degree burns from, I gather, a potion brewed by another student who was under YOUR care?” Hugh Oliver clarified, his volume raising slightly.

“Now Mr. Ardent – “Madame Pomphrey started but was interrupted by a booming Severus Snape.

“How dare you insinuate that this situation is anything other than an accident that occurs quite regularly during a magical education?”

“Do not patronize me, Professor!” The elder Ardent fired back, “I know your record, you have barely had minor accidents occur in your classroom let alone something like this which will likely leave my sister permanently scarred!” Hugh paused, sucking in a breath, “So I ask you, sir, where was your usual vigilance that disallows situations like this from arising?” By the end of the rant Hugh was full on shouting.

“Hugh!” A third voice reprimanded harshly, the named teenager winced, looking back to find his Father being lead into the room by one Albus Dumbledore, both with equally grim expressions all though Lord Ardent’s gaze held hints of annoyance. “You forget yourself,” The wizard told his son as he came up next to him. The younger Ardent’s anger extinguished in an instant.

“Yes sir.”

“I apologize on my son’s behalf Professor Snape, as well as to you, Madame Pomphrey, for disrupting the peace in your hall.” Both nodded at the apology in acceptance though the young Professor did still have a hard, brooding glint to his eyes. Having dealt with the formalities of the occasion, Lord Ardent took in his youngest daughter’s appearance with a hefty sadness.

“Oh my Emily, what have you gotten yourself into?” The man said quietly, being in the medical profession himself, he knew that many of the burns would leave lasting scars that only the future could bring a reprieve of for no potion yet had the potency to clear the scars away. He noted the burns around the right side of her ear and down her jaw into her neck with the most anxiety. He worried that lesser men would be unable to see how beautiful his daughter truly was, he worried about what matches he would be able to procure for her. His wonderings were broken by a whimper.

“Dad?” Emily Ardent’s eyes snapped into focus after the initial bout of shock, tears came to her eyes as she began to feel the pain her mind was suppressing. Lord Ardent was handed a pain potion by the mediwitch which he coaxed his daughter into swallowing and felt relieved as he watched her relax slightly.

“You were scalded by a potion, Emily, everything’s fine,” The eldest Ardent said in a hushed tone, hand gently caressing the hair from her face before turning back to address the Headmaster and Potion’s Master, motioning his son to take his place at his sister’s side before turning to go and speak with the two wizards.

“Hey Sis,” Hugh said in a bright tone, going around the bed to hold the hand that hadn’t been burned. “You feeling okay?”

“Yeah…” The girl trailed off gazing at the hand her brother held and then the one he wasn’t, drawing conclusions rapidly and then huffing, “Avery,” under her breath.

“Huh?” The younger Ardent shook her head.

“It’s nothing,” She appeased. “Do you know when I’ll be out of here?”

“It’ll probably be at least a day before Pomphrey lets you go,” Her brother commented, the sister nodded acceptingly all though she wanted to leave to go and strangle the negligent boy who did this to her.

“Scarring?”

“Perhaps a little…” Hugh trailed off uncomfortably, not wanting to let her know the extent of her situation, not wanting to panic her. Emily nodded and forced herself to relax her tensed body, noting the stiffness in the skin of her neck as well as right arm.

“Perhaps more than a little?” The sister guessed, meeting sad, honey eyes that affirmed her hypothesis.

“Well, that sucks,” she commented, though she wasn’t vain enough to think the entire world would end.

“Yeah…” The older brother sighed, grasping her hand tighter. “It’s pretty bad, sis,” He commented, finally.

“I was never going to be that pretty, Oli, it’s not a big deal,” The brother rolled his eyes at the admission because he knew it was far from the truth though she was too insecure to see it.

“No worries, Sis. Boys will still be lining up to take your hand,” Hugh Oliver said with mirth, eyes regaining some of their usual twinkle.

“I should hope not,” Lord Ardent said with horror in his eyes, walking back up to the bed, two sets of eyes turning to him and laughter escaping the siblings.

Emily Ardent was released a day later after a teary good bye to her parents and an hour or two of getting used to the webbed, calloused material covering the right side of her neck and much of her right arm. She’d been informed that Avery had been punished with two months of detention – Emily would have preferred he been removed from the Potions classroom in general but she swallowed her distaste for the boy recognizing that, at the very least, having a potion’s education may help the boy from making similar mistakes in the future. It just sucked that she had to be the one to pay the price for his negligence. It also weighed heavily on her mind that had she not put her head down she may have been more alert to his negligence and protected herself, so, her injuries were, at least partially, her own fault. Which hurt worse to recognize because Emily Ardent hated making mistakes.

Another source of displeasure was the constant staring at her face and neck wherever she went. Whether they looked on with pity or disgust mattered very little, all Emily knew was that it made her distinctly uncomfortable. Going from comfortably unacknowledged to attentively watched by her peers was not an easy transition and she hoped normalcy would soon return.

“Hey Oli!” The thirteen-year-old called, having spotted her older brother just about to enter the Charms classroom. Emily bounded over to meet him employing a mixture between a hop and skip, which brought a smile to the older brother’s face.

“Hey, what’s up?” Hugh asked, the familiar grin he always wore around his sister making its appearance.

“Not much,” She paused, “I just saw you and thought I’d say ‘hello.’”

“Ah, I see,” He said nodding his head sarcastically, “So, in actuality, you searched me out because you missed me, right?” The sixteen-year-old’s eyes twinkled not dissimilarly to another infamous mischief maker who happened to be a century older. Flipping brown hair from his eyes he laughed at his sister’s disgruntled expression. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes,’ then,” He said after a pause.

“You’re stupid.” Was Emily’s reply but it was very unconvincing, “I actually did have something to say, though,” The fifth year raised an eyebrow in legitimate surprise, “But I forgot…” She admitted at the end. Hugh Oliver laughed, ruffling his sister’s hair.

“Of course you would.”

“That’s not fair!”

“Mhmm.” Another raised eyebrow.

“I don’t forget things all the time…”

“Yeah, okay, sure, then - most of the time.”

“Nu-uh!”

“Where are you supposed to be right now?”

“Potions!” A pause. A blink. A glimmer of recognition. “Ah, shit.” Emily Ardent took off at a dead sprint, waving a hand behind her and barely keeping her cloak around her shoulders, leaving her brother to guffaw and stumble into the charms classroom a minute late though Filius Flitwick excused it under extenuating circumstances. The extenuating circumstance being that Flitwick enjoyed conversations with Hugh Ardent over tea way too frequently to take any points for lateness.

Emily, meanwhile, was extremely dismayed to find the potion’s classroom door shut and knew that she was late. With a contrite expression on her face, Emily slowly entered the classroom only to find her usual seat occupied which caused her to wrinkle her brow in irritation. Twenty heads turned to look at her before going back to whatever they were doing.

“Sit in the back, Miss Ardent,” Snape drawled from the front, not turning his back from the board, “And endeavor not to be late next time, as well.” He added almost as an afterthought which Emily found suspicious. _He’s not even angry that I’m late?_ Taking a seat in the back as directed, it occurred to Emily that her usual seat being taken was probably not a coincidence but a result of not wanting the same incident to occur again. She wondered at the wisdom of putting another student in the line of fire, so to speak, but was a little relieved she wouldn’t have to constantly look over her shoulder. Setting out her belongings, Emily moved to go collect the necessary ingredients for some sort of Boil Cream. However, as she stood up she noticed that no one else had any ingredients, just their parchment out.

“Professor?” She called after a moment of raising her hand without acknowledgement. Snape whirled around, his cape nearly blowing out one of the candles on his desk.

“Yes, Miss Ardent?” He drawled, unable to put any of the usual bite in his tone.

“Are we not brewing today?”

“It appears not.”

“But why not?” Snape scowled at the girl, her impertinence grating on his nerves. He noted the that her back had straightened to a board and recognized that sign of obstinacy with distaste.

“It’s not your place to question, Miss Ardent. Now, I suggest you sit down and take notes,” Severus heard an irritated huff as he turned back to the board, working on writing a couple more questions he wanted the third years to answer by the end of class. He was not surprised to see that Miss Ardent had snuck out of the classroom when he turned back around, or rather, he was not surprised that she left, he was, however, surprised that she’d been able to without attracting his attention – it was a skill he could almost consider admirable had he not been so irritated at her skipping out on his class simply because she deemed it unworthy of her time. That, he felt, was inexcusable.

Severus Snape had hardly slept well the night previous – too many flashes of skin being removed from bone and a piercing scream ripping a migraine into his head. Though it left a foul taste in his mouth, Snape knew he was feeling guilty for the incident with Miss Ardent. He recognized the bitter taste too well. After Lily…well…suffice to say Severus Snape knew what all-encompassing gut-wrenching and bile turning guilt felt like and that was indeed the emotion that kept the young, thin professor from sleep.

That guilt, however, did not stop him from informing the Headmaster of Miss Ardent’s misstep; she was still a Gryffindor, after all.

Emily Ardent, furiously brushed her hair from her face, spitting a strand from her lips as she dried her face with a towel by the sink. Staring at her reflection, she reached a hand up to feel the hard, jumbled skin on her neck and jaw with distaste, bile rising in her throat along with frustrated tears. She was angry that she’d left class, she was angry that Snape hadn’t been truly mad at her for being disrespectful, impertinent and all sorts of other adjectives that could be used to describe her earlier behavior. Most of all she hated that one moment of deciding to put her head down had changed the course of her life – she was destined to a life of stares and pitying glances.

The teenager knew she was being extremely dramatic but couldn’t seem to stop herself from the thoughts that were rolling through her head. She just wished everything would go back to normal and no one would pay any attention to her unless she was asking for it, as she often did in Potions with her clever little retorts and refusal to answer simple questions.

“You walked out of potions!” Her brother exclaimed later that day as the two Griffindors were about to walk into the Great Hall for an early dinner, eyes nearly popping out of their sockets. He grabbed Emily’s shoulders and swiftly turned around in his hands, scanning for injuries. “You’re okay,” He huffed in relief just as Emily opened her mouth to protest his manhandling, “How in the hell are you okay?” The older Ardent wondered in disbelief. The freckle-faced teenager shrugged her thin shoulders, she’d been asking herself the same question.

Swiping a hand through his thick, brown hair, Hugh Oliver Ardent looked his sister up and down and knew he should scold her for her behavior but couldn’t bring himself after noticing her neck. She’d been through something traumatic and, he knew, she wasn’t nearly as unaffected as she pretended to be. So, instead, Hugh just shook his head with a warm smile on his face and brought a protective arm around his little sister’s shoulders, warding off the stares as they headed towards their usual seat at the very end of the Gryffindor table.

“Snape is so ridiculously nice to you,” Hugh complained with a pout as the siblings sat and began to fill their plates.

“Hardly,” Emily scoffed, her eyes widening. Hugh rolled his eyes.

“If literally anyone else tried to goad him on like you do, they’d be potion ingredients. Hell, he doesn’t even take points from you!” Emily frowned, she hadn’t really ever thought of it that way, that him not taking points could be misconstrued as ‘being nice.’ She knew, rather, that he wasn’t willing to give her the satisfaction of letting her know that she’d gotten under his skin.

“You’re stupid.” Emily criticized rather passively, stuffing food into her mouth a moment later.  Hugh shot his sister a disgruntled look and lightly kicked her under the table, bringing a smile to her stuffed cheeks – the earlier tears soon forgotten. Some things would always be the same.

That evening found Emily in the Headmaster’s office following a summons brought to her by a small and squirmy spotted owl. Emily tried her best to not show her amusement at Snape sending her scathing looks from the corner. She really did love getting under his skin.

“Now, Miss Ardent,” Dumbledore started kindly,” I understand there was some sort of misunderstanding today in regards to Professor Snape’s teaching methods, would you care to explain why you left his class?”

“Because it was stupid.” Emily stated simply. Snape growled at her response from the corner which earned him a glare from Dumbledore.

“Why was it ‘stupid,’ Miss Ardent?” Emily frowned, feeling positively stifled under the Headmaster’s understanding gaze, hardly wanting to admit that she’d simply thrown a fit over not brewing in class and left like some sort of two-year-old.

“Because we weren’t brewing.” She bit out, beginning to flick her index and middle finger of her right hand past each other in an anxious gesture.

“Tell me, Miss Ardent, do you always perform Charms in Charms,” She shook her head, “Then it stands to reason you won’t always brew potions in potions, correct?”

“Yes, but that’s usually if there’s a test,” Emily chewed on the inside of her cheek, feeling guiltier by the second. _Why couldn’t I have just sucked it up? Being a girl with emotions sucks sometimes. Now the bat is still glaring at me and it’s actually a little bit creepy – like he’s slowly dissecting me; pulling me apart limb by limb._

“What’s the real reason you left, Emily?” The use of her first name jarred the teenage girl from her thoughts.

“I don’t know…” She paused and scrunched her eyebrows when Snape huffed in exasperation, “I just hated it…” Her eyes stared fixedly on her shoes, her cheeks heating up in embarrassment over her childish actions.

“Hated what?” A purposefully construed elderly voice continued. The manipulation of his tone did not go unnoticed by Emily nor the young professor but the tone affected bothe nonetheless.

“It just seemed like it was all because I was hurt, sir, and I hated that potions wasn’t just potions like it always is…” Emily bit her lip and looked into blue eyes apologetically, scuffing the tip of her right shoe against the floor.

“Did it not occur to you, Miss Ardent, that maybe it was for the sake of your classmates who had to watch you suffer that brewing was not a part of the lesson?” Snape drawled from his corner of the colorfully-decorated office. Emily shook her head, whispered, “no, sir,” and shot the professor a glance. A soft “Figures,” emerged as a scoff from Snape’s lips. Emily barely was able to stop the roll that was trying to escape from her nerve endings into her eyes.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Miss Ardent voiced, the apology genuine. Snape’s right eyebrow was nearly pressed into his hairline at the apology. Emily felt just as surprised at her own words, or, rather, that she meant them. Her and Snape’s relationship had always been…antagonistic – Emily’s fault, of course, not that Snape’s abrasive personality made him easy to get along with. So an apology felt strange on Emily’s tongue. _What a week it has been._

“Well that’s solved it, then,” The headmaster beamed, glad that Miss Ardent had regained her senses and that Severus had somehow managed to contain his rage.

“I’d hardly call it solved, Albus,” Severus retorted, though there was very little bite. The Headmaster blinked at the use of his first name in front of a student, storing the curious information in the back of his head – Severus normally wasn’t one to make such a mistake. 

“Whatever do you mean, Professor Snape?” Albus replied with twinkling eyes and a smile.

“Surely Miss Ardent won’t get away with storming out of my class without any consequences.” Snape said with clear exasperation.

“I’d hardly call it storming out – you mentioned you didn’t even hear her leave,” The headmaster paused and waved his hand to calm the Professor who was about to brew a storm of curses, “But you’re right, she should have some sort of punishment.” There was another pause filled with twinkling eyes and a sweet, ‘you’re going to hate this,’ smile that made Severus shudder, “Perhaps it would be prudent for Miss Ardent to assist you every Thursday evening for a month – and I do mean assist, Severus, not write lines or clean cauldrons.” The Headmaster turned to Miss Ardent, ignoring the fuming young professor in the corner, “Is that amiable, Miss Ardent?” The thirteen-year-old nodded reluctantly, grimacing. She really didn’t want to spend four nights with Snape growling over her – no, that was definitely not something she wanted, but she knew there was no way around it.

So caught up in her own concerns, Emily barely noticed that Snape had stormed out of the Headmaster’s practically spewing fire. She did, however, note with some amusement, that while most people think Snape’s a slithering, whispering, snake – he’s really a dragon; a very angry dragon. That thought nearly had her laughing as she left the Headmaster’s Office for the Gryffindor dorms. _What a weird week it has been_ , Emily thought again as she pushed away her concerns for Thursday nights and fought against thinking about the discomfort that ran along her arm and neck. No, she would not think about it.


	2. Overhead and Overhearing

Emily continued ignoring the fact that she could barely look in the mirror without feeling sick by throwing herself into school work. All though she did mostly earn top marks in her classes, Emily found herself reading books that would be useful for her OWLs in two years. She wanted to earn as many as possible, so, she figured it wouldn’t hurt to start studying now. Hugh was a nuisance in this regard, trying desperately to convince her to leave the books for the outside to get some fresh air – after all, “Summer is almost over.”

It was Sunday, October 13th and Hugh was simply delusion – well-intentioned – but delusional.

“Hey Em Em Em Em!” Speak of the devil, Emily thought, rolling her eyes at the heavy foot steps on an overly cheerful Hugh Oliver Ardent. Hugh collapsed on top of her and Emily squeaked, feeling the air leave her lungs as his larger body crushed her.

“Get off!” She yelled, trying to wriggle out from under him, Hugh just laughed and began poking her sides. Emily grunted in frustration, trying now to kick him off but he had a good 30 pounds on her and it was to no avail. Shoving her face to the floor, Emily let out a short scream that immediately stopped Hugh’s antics. His face loomed over her shoulder but he made no attempt to get off her.

“You good?”

“Go away.”

“Come fly with me.”

“No.”

“It’s nice out.

“Get off me.”

“Only if you come out and fly.”

“You’re a two year old Hugh!” Emily barked, her voice strained.

“Em, you’ve been inside for the last three days reading my textbooks – it’s not healthy.” Emily took a moment to stop herself from laughing as the situation suddenly turned serious even though her looming oaf of a brother was still pinning her to the floor. “Come outside,” Hugh whined slightly, following it up with a quick jab of his hand at her kidneys, to which Emily replied with a rather loud, “Ass!”

“Outside?” Jab.

“No.”

“Please?” Jab.

“No.”

“C’mon?” Jab.

Emily sighed. “Fine.”

Hugh leaped up excitedly letting out a whoop in his joy, while Emily gave him her best death glare.

Begrudgingly, Emily acknowledged that it was nice to get out of the common room. It was nice to get into the air – she’d always had enjoyed flying but never had the desire to try out for the Quidditch team. It was too campy. Too many people in close conditions that she had no desire to get to know. Or, at least, she didn’t think she wanted to get to know any of them. Well…there was Garrett Ollivander but that was just because she occasionally found herself looking at him – he was just really…confident. She admired that. She may have also admired his facial structure. Though Emily did her best to ignore that – he was a seventh year and it’s not like he would even look at her back.

As she flew low, slow circles around the Quidditch pitch, Emily allowed her mind to rest. She rarely allowed her mind to be silent. But flying calmed her just as much as it could exhillerate her.

“Em!” Hugh called from twenty feet above her, Emily looked up and mouthed, “What?” He pointed his hand towards the Forbidden Forest as Emily flew to match her brother’s altitude. Looking at where he was pointing, a smile broke out across the thirteen year olds face. On a hilltop that was just barely peaking out from behind the dense mass of trees was a large bird-like animal. A hippogriff. The sun hit the creature just right, making it look majestic and proud. Just then the animal beat its wings and took the sky, Emily gaped, thinking it one of the most beautiful things she’d seen in a while. Each individual quill seemed to fling dewdrops into the trees – like tiny stars winking in and out of existence. The Wizarding World never did stop with the surprises, even if you had grown up in it your entire life.  
“And that is why I want to work with magical creatures.” Hugh murmerred beside his sister, caught in the moment and thinking about his future. Emily raised an eyebrow, having not heard of her brother’s ambition before. She thought it a good job for him – Hugh had always had a way with animals. Probably why he was always able to calm her down. Emily smirked at the memories that brought up. She’d always been the wild one.

Later that night, Hugh abandoned Emily to sit with his friends for dinner. He didn’t have many but Casey Cartold, and Hunter Venille were his two closest compatriots – other than Professor Flitwick, of course. Casey was a larger boy who sported a full beard by the time he was twelve and was generally considered a bit of an enigma. Hunter was near his exact opposite and was essentially Emily’s height and extremely thin. Both were Gryffindor and both were muggleborn – not that it really mattered- and Emily’s interactions with two boys were limited to waves in the hallways.

The teenage girl ate her meal while quietly going over the current fifth year Defense book, mumbling the various spells and curses under her breath and thinking about finding somewhere to practice them. The solitude didn’t bother her, in fact, she probably would have gotten annoyed with Hugh if he had tried to sit with her. She’d already been convinced away from her studies once today, after all.

Stretching her back and shoulders as she got up, Emily did her best to ignore the lance of pain that travelled up her neck and into her jaw as well as down into her toes. She didn’t know if the pain was normal but considering it wasn’t too often an occurrence, Emily didn’t see any reason to mention anything. Picking up the Defense book, Emily headed back to her dorm, thinking about turning in early for the night and then getting up early to see the sunrise and do some writing – another of Emily’s favorite pass times - before class on Monday.

Emily woke up later than she meant to and could only sigh as she tugged on her uniform in a rush, she’d completely slept through breakfast and was well on her way to being late for Charms. Allthough Flitwick’s relationship with her brother was good, Emily doubted that goodness extended to her. Her brother had always been more likeable.

As Emily walked rather briskly towards the Charms classroom, the third years ears were pricked by a low murmering. She peaked around the corner and saw a group of boys, some in her year, some not, huddled together. She raised an eyebrow at the behavior and she could feel it in her gut that she should walk away but Emily couldn’t bring herself to – she’d always been to curious for her own good. That singular fact is probably why she hadn’t been placed in Slytherin; Slytherin’s knew when to keep their heads downs – they played the long game. Emily, on the other hand, just had to satisfy her curiosity.

“Shut up, Goyle, we’re not gonna get caught,” A tall boy in Ravenclaw colors proclaimed haughtily. Goyle, whom was a Slytherin rolled his eyes at this but the taller boy’s words seemed to soothe him. “Besides, it’s just a bit of fun – no one’s going to get hurt.” Emily grimaced at this, knowing them to be very famous last words. Taking a moment to memorize the faces she could see, Emily slowly backed away and, to her dismay, realized she was definitely going to be late for Charms. Cursing her curiosity, which was not really sated at all, Emily picked up a jog to the Charms classroom and stumbled in five minutes late, resulting in a five point loss for Gryffindor.

Emily earned at least a hundred icy glares that day from her fellow housemates and couldn’t help but feel angry at this considering they had all loss points before. But the teenager also knew that she was only very tentatively accepted as a Gryffindor and, so, was more prone to inciting the anger of the other young and quite volatile Lions.

Throughout the day, Emily did her be to ignore the stares and, instead, turned her thoughts towards the group of boys who were probably up to on good. She figured she could tell someone but, at this point, she had no way of showing that they really weren’t just up to some harmless schoolboy prank. Nonetheless, she tucked the faces of the diverse group of boys into her head – and even some of their names; the ones who were pureblood and therefore were a part of her lessons as a child – committing them to memory should something serious happen.

Her week continued easily, the glares from her housemates lessening and allowing her to recede back into the walls of her social pariah, the pain lancing up and down her body had happened a couple of times since the first incident but she ignored it, she continued her vigilant watch for anything strange. And, most of all, she prepared her mind for what would no doubt be a strenuous Thursday evening under the spiteful gaze of one Severus Snape.


End file.
